


Afterwards

by ExorcisingEmily



Series: Before the Fall Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Before the Fall Verse, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 08:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExorcisingEmily/pseuds/ExorcisingEmily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fallen, mortal, and starting as a Hunter with the Winchesters, Castiel is learning to be human and Dean how to live.  Follows "Before the Fall."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterwards

Blonde tresses fan out across the surface of the water, catching each small ripple of the turbulent surface of the lake, drifting and separating and floating suspended in weightlessness, Fate's golden thread unraveling from the skein and spilling around a porcelain face that is frozen forever, twisted in horror and pain and fear.

Fear of _him_. The sword feels weightless in his hands, and this time she is powerless and he powerful.

Her fate had been decided with such a simple motion. The turn of her wrist, and she had broken three men utterly.

In his mind's eye, he can see her from above, arms outspread, fingers curling into her palms, body weightless, blue eyes unseeing. As the lightning chases the sky, casting all of the horrors below in stark relief, an Angel's blood seeps through the shallows of the lake, spreading scarlet wings.

He knows this place.

This is his home. His prison. He crawls back into this space each time, curled within it, a reminder: this is what he is, and what he was, and what he cannot let himself be again.

Hester turns her wrist, and Dean Winchester dies again.

And again, Castiel finds her here in his memories. And again, he murders her.

And again.

And again.

_"You're a monster."_

But at least he’s a thorough one.

The walls between sleeping and waking are fragile, and Castiel flits through them soundlessly, smoothly, never sure in this state where one ends and the other begins. He anchors on the familiar rumble of pavement beneath the tires, the gentle feeling of motion, and Sam’s slow, deep snoring from the front seat. As a car passes them from the opposite direction, headlights sweep across the interior of the car and he can see Dean watching him, the brief moment of light illuminating summer green eyes in the rearview.

He knows. Castiel can tell, simply from that small picture-frame portion visible to him, Dean knows he was back _there_ again in his memory.

Somehow, he usually does know.

"You okay?" Dean keeps his voice low, for Sam's benefit, letting his brother get as much sleep as possible.

There's an inherent trust, here, that is somehow humbling and gratifying for Dean at once. Driving the car along distant back roads, the two most important people in his world asleep and dreaming in their places, they put their lives in his hands every time he gets behind the wheel and they do it without hesitation. The concept that Dean would lead them astray or lose control is dismissed, if it's even considered at all. His entire life he has loved to drive, but it was never the same when he was doing it without his little brother, and now his angel. It's not about the road, it's only secondarily about the car (though he does love her), it's about the responsibility. Here, he can take care of them both.

He just wishes he could steer their dreams to safer destinations as well.

"I'm fine." It's the most common lie among them, to the point where it's no longer taken as an answer to any posed question, and more accepted as the connotative equivalent of 'drop it, I don't want to talk about it.' And for the most part, Dean can respect that. He uses it as much as any of them—hell, he probably coined the term among the three of them—and it's become customary that whoever challenges an 'I'm fine' is subjected to the same scrutiny they put on others: if you push an issue, be ready for it to be pushed back at you, and everything you're 'fine' over will be dragged out as well.

For now Dean lets it go with a slight nod and turns his eyes back to the road, but he begins looking at the exit signs for a likely motel. He probably could hold out another hour or so driving, but he knows what's plaguing Castiel. He’s dragged the truth of Cas’s nightmares out of him before and even in the dark, unable to make him out clearly, Dean can see Cas won't be shaking this one right away.

The nightmares of all three of them tend to linger, and they all have their triggers. The last case was all told a straightforward exorcism, but they'd been smacked around a bit and the demon had sent Crowley's regards before crashing Dean into a window with a flick of her wrist. Dean’s growing resigned to the fact that he has a sign painted on him encouraging just such a reaction to his presence, but it had been enough tap back into the nightmares that seemed to swim below the surface of their thoughts, waiting to take center stage in the subconscious.

A twist of a wrist and all Cas had been able to see of Dean was the blood he left behind on the glass. No, Dean doesn’t have to stretch the imagination far to figure out what Cas was dreaming about.

When Dean wakes Sam with a smack to the side of his knee and a gruff order to check them into the motel he's easing the car up to, Sam doesn't need to ask what kind of night this is either. He’s started classifying them in his head.

There are the exhausted one-room nights, where all three of them collapse on their beds and sleep like the dead (better than most of the dead they come across, actually) until morning. There are the companionable one-room nights when there's research to be done and something to hunt, or lessons in humanity for the fallen angel ranging from movies to hand-to-hand methods, to poker lessons, to tools, to the specifics of how to hunt, use the computer, and how to lie (he's still terrible at it, which is reassuring to some insecure part of the boys that remembers how well he misled them), until well into the night, with laughter and drinking and confused and annoyed expressions from Cas. And then there are two-room nights, where Sam books his own room next to theirs, puts in his headphones, and pretends that motel walls are made of sterner stuff.

Sam's come to recognize when to make himself scarce and when his brother needs the two of them in his sight. Castiel is staring off out the window again, awake despite looking exhausted, and Dean's pulling over before midnight, clearly worried about Cas and needing to get through to him, whether through sex or arguments or prolonged staring. Sam doesn't really ask for details. Either way, it's clearly a two-room night, and Sam doesn't resent it.

Sam hands Dean the second motel key in the lot, Dean shoots him a look of thanks, and that's all the discussion his brother is willing to have about the relationship. Sam hasn't found his brother drinking alone in the dark since Storm Lake, so for now he doesn't really need to fully understand what's going on between Dean and Cas to know it's helping them both. There was something always bitterly understood, made perfectly clear by Dean ("I'm fine.") in every way he could—Dean expected to end up dying young, alone, and angry. This changes that, all of it. They may not discuss it (Sam doubts even between the two of them), but whatever this tangled up mess is between his brother and his friend, it's okay in his book.

Dean's never been the holding hands in the park type anyway, and Cas has never really expressed interest in anyone _but_ Dean. Sam doesn't think he's imagining the look of appreciation his friend shoots him upon seeing that second key, but Castiel can be hard to catch expressions on at times and it's gone quickly as the fallen angel takes up both his and Dean's bags, leaving Dean free to open the door.

As soon as the deadbolt is locked, Castiel finds himself pinned up against the back of that door, hands still tangled in the straps of their bags and Dean pressing that advantage as if to provide incontrovertible evidence that he is _alive_.

In the beginning, Castiel accepted each touch and kiss and moment Dean spent with him like an unexpected gift, quietly celebrated as a minor miracle. Now, after a month on the road with the Winchesters, Castiel is learning that at times he can be greedy. He can take, and want, and it's _human_. It's encouraged. Dean can be very encouraging.

He never feels so human as he does with Dean.

There are still days where everything reminds him of the power he burned away. There are times when the cold, dispassionate feeling steals over him, a sense of numb and empty purpose.

Somehow Dean always knows.

It's not a great mystery. Cas has been able to tell when the Pit was on the forefront of Dean's mind, as well. He had been there, he had seen it, and he knows what it means to be the one with the blade in his hand, broken and lashing out to escape pain and inflict punishment. Perhaps as much as anything, this ties them together—they have seen each other at their absolute worst, pushed past the breaking point, drowning in their own despair and shame and guilt—and they have forgiven it of each other even if they're slow to forgive themselves.

So when they crash together, each fighting for control, now evenly matched and cheating however they can for the fleeting upper hand they can win against the other, that concept of "I'm fine" becomes irrelevant. There is a sense of absolution to being accepted by someone who truly understands the depths of your flaws.

And perhaps they're both the tragic heroes in the literary sense, brought low by those fatal flaws and sins—by their pride and their wrath and their self-imposed martyrdom that drives them to throw themselves down to save the ones they love. Perhaps Castiel ignored wisdom and flew too close to the sun only to crash to the earth. Perhaps Dean was twisted by destiny, tricked the gods to deliver mankind from their whims and suffer for it. But they can find joy in the wake of their tragedies and they know the story isn't over yet.

Life is still full of awkward moments, of missed references, of nightmares, of flashbacks and regret. It is fighting against the odds, and always being the underdog, bruises and aches and drive-through burgers, laundromats, and cheap motels, Sam's teasing and Dean's blustering, learning pool, losing at poker, misunderstanding plotless movies, arguing methods, blowing their cover stories and having to spend a night in a backwoods county lockup listening to Dean cajole him for it. And at times, it is the ache when he can hear his brothers and sisters, reminding him of what he was and never will be again, power and purpose and lack of doubt, and absolute conviction.

Humanity is full of pain, and anger, and confusion, and guilt, just as Castiel told Dean years ago.

And it is _beautiful._


End file.
